


Colombiana

by TearsIMustConceal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Community: HPFT, Drama, Espionage, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6478048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearsIMustConceal/pseuds/TearsIMustConceal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Routine is never routine when a Greengrass is involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

 

Cucuta, Colombia. April 26th

 

Footsteps pounded the hard, dusty ground of the rundown streets of Colombia – Cucuta, Norte de Santader to be exact. Dust clouds kicked up with every sharp twist and turn taken, wooden window shutters slammed shut as they were passed. The two runners, one male and one female gestured wordlessly to each other about a building they were approaching, though whether the lack of words was out of skill or due to fatigue was unclear. Taking a sharp right, directly into the path of the old, abandoned building, they ducked inside and headed up the stairs, not stopping until they were safely barricaded inside what looked like an old bedroom.

 

Heavy breathing filled the dense air as both bodies attempted to regain their lost breath. Peering outside though a broken slat in the window, they watched as 4 figures dressed all in black ran by, casting shadows in the dim street lights. They shouted to each other in rushed Spanish before heading off in different directions.

 

“How in Merlin did we end up in this situation?” The male asked, causing the female to huff, “Don't huff at me, I wouldn't be here risking my life if I hadn't have met you.”

 

“Yes well, I'm sorry that you had the unfortunate luck to spill my coffee all over me and my new clothes. How hard it must be for you, to not take any of the blame in this.” The blonde spat back, glaring at the brunette before turning back to peer outside.

 

Daphne Greengrass had not envisioned herself holed up in a run down building when she took the job 3 weeks ago. She had been promised by Dempster Wiggleswade that the job was perfectly safe, just 'a few unexplained disappearances to check on, nothing dangerous' – a regular law enforcement piece for the Prophet. Daphne couldn't wait to get back home to strangle the largely obese man, perhaps even wax his moustache off the muggle way whilst she was there. She had taken a job at the Daily Prophet as a fact checker, nothing special, nothing exciting, just a simple way to make a living after her parents up and left London to places unknown and Astoria moved in with the Malfoy's. A dream to maybe,perhaps eventually become a journalist, Daphne had jumped at the chance to prove herself with the job but here she was, knee deep in a scandal that could prove to be biggest story the Prophet had handled since the defeat of Voldemort and all she wanted was to go home, curl up in bed with Magiflix and pretend that none of it had ever happened.

 

“You bumped into me, if my memory serves me correct.”

 

Daphne rolled her eyes at the southern american twang that was grating on her last nerve. Tristan Harper was the current bane of her existence, the thorn in her side and her saviour, although she would never admit that to him. A Hit Wizard on a mission for the Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA), he was in Colombia to detain a gang of wizards who had become embroiled in muggle drug smuggling – they had been seen to be smuggling drugs through magical means to evade detection, for a cut of the money – a clear breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy - and it was Tristan's job to bring them back to America.

 

Their paths had crossed when Tristan had spilled Daphne's coffee all over her whilst he was in the middle of a recon mission, which according to him, had been going well until Daphne had appeared and 'bumped' into him, ruining the said mission and allowing the subject he had been following to leave his sight. He stormed off, leaving Daphne in a heap on the floor before following her back to her hotel, where he proceeded to insult her and then almost threaten her when he a got a little paranoid.

 

She didn't see him again until 2 weeks later.

 

She had been happily getting on with her research, smugly pleased with herself as she found more and more information on the disappearances of the 2 wizards she had been assigned to look into, Delphin Monbast and Randolph Morgan, both of whom had mysteriously vanished after last being seen leaving the shadiest part of Cucuta, heading down the highway towards Bogota. It seemed to Daphne that Monbast and Morgan were involved in whatever seemed to be going down on the streets after dark, between the overly sinister muggles who met on dimly lit, quiet corners and it didn't take long, after a generous tip off to speak to the barista at the local café to learn that it was all about drugs, something she wasn't quite familiar with.

 

When Daphne had been cornered by a gang clad in all black, whom she couldn't help but wonder whether they were extremely hot in the daily baking South American sun, and threatened with something metal that she recognised to be a gun, from the numerous muggle news reports in London, she realised that the job she had taken was more than she had bargained for. They had been shouting to her in aggressive Spanish before the apparent leader, tattooed and surly, had began talking to her in English and Daphne hadn't been sure whether she preferred being shouted at in Spanish – at least she didn't have to understand what they were planning on doing to her for asking too many questions. When the gun was raised to her chest, her heart pounding in her ears, life disappointingly not flashing before her eyes, which made her believe she hadn't even lived a life good enough to warrant even a small montage of her achievements, Tristan emerged, wand out and spells and colours flashing in all directions. Stunning at least 2 of the men, Tristan grabbed Daphne and they ran, turning at ever corner to avoid rogue bullets and poorly aimed spells.

 

And that was how they had ended up in the rundown building, the sun down and the shouts of Spanish curse words still ringing in the air.

 

“We best stay here for the night while they're still looking for us.” Tristan's voice, authoritative and strong, invaded Daphne's thoughts and she nodded, glancing briefly in his direction.

 

“Okay, that's fine.”

 

Daphne peered out from the broken slat one more time before turning to look around the room she was now stuck in. Sighing when she saw no means of comfort, she positioned herself in the corner of the room and brought out the Wandpad form her battered backpack, along with her notebook, filled with smudged bullet points and crossed out sentences. Her research on the disappearances were messy and uncoordinated but she understood it – for the most part and what it told her was that the two men who had vanished were part of a long list of other wizards who had disappeared in the same way.

 

Daphne now had realised that the one thing connecting everything – the shady behaviour, the disappearances, the gang chasing her down – was the drug smuggling ring Nita, the barista had filled her in on and it was clear she was only scratching the surface. Tristan knew more, the American Ministry of Magic even more than he did. Dempster was in for a treat the moment Daphne landed on English soil again.

 

“So how did a girl like you end up here in Colombia?” Tristan broke the eerie silence that had fallen over the room and Daphne looked up from her parchment. “You don't look the type to be getting your hands dirty, no offence.”

 

Daphne rolled her eyes, “No offence taken,” Her sarcasm was hard to miss. “I was promised the job was a safe one, just checking up on a few leads, to find out where Monbast and Morgan had fled to, then come back home and write it all up.” She let out a sigh. “Obviously that's not what happened and here we are.”

 

“Yeah, here we are.” Replied Tristan, his voice less than enthusiastic, which irked Daphne to no end.

 

“Listen here Texas,” Daphne started, turning her full attention onto the American. “Stop with the attitude okay? I don't want to be here as much as you but for now, we're stuck here and until I get back home and my life is no longer at risk from scary psychos dressed in far too much black and wielding guns, we have to tolerate each other.”

 

“So you're merely using me as protection?” Tristan scoffed but didn't dispute the fact. “And for the record, I am not from Texas, I'm from Louisiana, New Orleans if we're truly being pedantic. I am not a Texan.”

 

“Merlin, you're getting really defensive Texas.” Daphne smirked as she watched his face redden with anger, “And yes, you're my protection until I can leave so the sooner you apprehend whoever you're here to apprehend, the sooner we can never see each other again.”

 

Daphne returned to her notes, shuffling her parchment. “Monbast and Morgan disappeared because they were involved in the drug smuggling, right? Which means realistically, with those guys parading guns around like it's the norm, they're most likely dead. Which means the guys in black were the ones who did it, or were at least involved in the whole drugs thing.” Daphne paused, scanning her untidy scrawl, “But for wizards to be involved in drug smuggling, there must be a couple of wizards higher up the food chain, which must be why you're here – to catch them.”

 

“Yes, that's pretty much the reason i'm here – funnily enough, I don't usually take vacations in South American drug hotspots.” Tristan replied, sarcasm clear in his voice, as he took a seat on a small, unstable wooden stool, “I've been tracking them for 4 weeks – I found out where their headquarters are, how many members are involved and who the main players were. I was keeping an eye out on some of them when we had the coffee incident and that's when I lost them. I've been two steps behind ever since.”

 

“I swear, if you blame me one more time for the spilled coffee, I will scream.” Daphne snapped, almost baring her teeth at the American. “Anyway, it doesn't matter. What matters now is that we find them again and get this whole situation sorted.”

 

“We?” Asked Tristan, incredulously. “Do you seriously believe that i'm going to let you help me? You're not trained, you're just a girl pretending to be a journalist for a ridiculous paper that has lost all its credibility.” He stood up, shaking his head furiously. “Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, I really do but you're going to stay here whilst I go and catch them.”

 

“Do not treat me like i'm a child! I am a part of this now, whether you like it or not so you better get on with it.” Daphne folded her arms across her chest and smirked at Tristan, who was looking unimpressed at the reality of their situation. “So where do we start?”


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

 

London, UK. April 4th

 

Grimacing as she weaved in and out of the busy London streets, Daphne Greengrass held onto her handbag tighter as the hustle and bustle reached climatic heights. Taking the first opportunity she could to leave the flow of bodies, she slid down the alleyway to the left, the shortcut she knew would bring her just outside the Leaky Cauldron – sure, she was more than likely to come across spiders, rats and possibly the results of one too many fire whiskey's on the weekend but it was better than the alternative: losing her limbs in a rush hour crush that was bound to happen a few streets down.

 

Stepping tentatively over leftover food cartons and a rat that refused to give up it's claim, despite her presence, she headed down the dark passage, the smell of Merlin knows what assaulting her sense as she walked deeper into the alley. Quickening her pace, her heeled boots echoing in the relative silence, she finally let out the breath she had been holding as she reached Charing's Cross, the Leaky Cauldron opposite her, standing tall despite the crowds moving like a school of fish.

 

Stepping out onto the busy street, Daphne took her blonde hair from under her hat and stuffed the bobbled monstrosity into her bag before pushing through the multiple bodies, slipping inside the warm pub.

 

Daphne Greengrass hated the morning commute with a passion.

 

She had suffered with the commute since she had gotten her job at the Daily Prophet, after her parents left London for warmer climates and she had to move out of the family home and into the small, dingy flat she was currently occupying. It was a stretch to call it a flat but not everyone was as lucky as her sister, who managed to back herself a rich, although tainted and possibly murderous, man to move in with, his mother too. Astoria had fallen onto her feet, like always and had been quite happy to gloat that fact to Daphne when she was picking up the last of her things.

 

And their mother used to wonder why they never got on.

 

Small and blonde, with a resting bitch face to rival even Draco Malfoy, Daphne hadn't changed much, appearance wise, since her days at Hogwarts, except for the boobs which miraculously appeared after 7 years of wishing to whatever God would listen. The polar opposite to her younger sister, the only thing they ever had in common was that they were both Slytherin whilst at Hogwarts. Part of the 'in' crowd, she had never quite understood the need to stress the importance of blood status, not like Draco or Blaise had, but she had never questioned it nor spoke out, knowing better than most to stay quiet – cowardly, yes but it kept her and her family safe, which was worth it.

 

After school and the defeat of Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, Daphne and her family had laid low for a year or two before she decided to finish her final year of Hogwarts and continue further studies, with hopes of doing something with her life. When her parents decided they were leaving for some hot country that Astoria had problems pronouncing, Daphne got herself the flat and a job at the Prophet.

 

And that was how she had become an early morning commuter instead of a house-witch in training like her younger sister.

 

Smiling at the morning regulars she recognised, Daphne made her way to the back of the pub, smiling at the blonde behind the bar.

 

“Morning Hannah,”

 

“Morning Daphne, good weekend?” Hannah Longbottom, new landlady of the Leaky Cauldron and Neville Longbottom's wife, greeted her from behind the bar, baby bump peeking over the top.

 

“Yeah not bad, you? Not long to go now, hey?” Daphne, although having been a Slytherin at Hogwarts, knew Hannah whilst she was there, having praised her one time for wearing the 'Potter Stinks' badge during the Tri-Wizard tournament – it was the only reason she hadn't faced Draco's taunting about being half-blooded. Daphne had never been interested in who was pure-blooded and who thought they were better than everyone else – she had other things to worry about, like how she was going to pay her rent or if Finley Marsters was going to call her back after their date on Saturday.

 

“Still too long if you ask me. I swear, if I have to go to the loo one more time, I might just scream.” Hannah laughed loudly, shaking her head. “Neville can get lost if he thinks we're having more than one kid – once this one is out, I am closed for business.” Daphne shook her head at Hannah's bluntness, before continuing to the door.

 

“See you later Daph,”

 

“Bye Hannah.” Daphne smiled before heading out the back door and pulling out her wand, tapping the brick wall anti-clockwise. Waiting patiently as the bricks slowly disappeared, they eventually parted ways to reveal a bustling Diagon Alley and an assortment of coloured capes and hats.

 

Witches and wizards seamlessly navigated the busy cobbled street, each step synchronised with each other. Not once did they bump into each other like the muggles did – it was a much more civilised way of life and much easier to handle on an early Monday morning.

 

Heading towards the south side of Diagon Alley, passing Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on the way, the purple and orange motif glaringly eye-catching, as where the queues already outside the front door, Daphne carried on past Whizz Hard Books, the book publishers that resided one door down from the Prophet office, before slipping side said office, closing the door on the chaos of Monday morning.

 

“Morning Whilemina,” Daphne cringed as she watched the older woman trying to fend off pecking owls and stray memos but not before she managed a small wave. The woman's greying hair was sticking out in all directions and her glasses askew but Daphne said nothing, not wanting to make her morning even worse than it already seemed to be.

 

Climbing the lone flight of stairs, Daphne walked into the office and began advancing towards her desk. Her part of the office consisted of a smaller than quota desk and a tiny potted plant, a standard and thoughtless welcoming gift from Barnabus Cuffe, the editor, which she was pretty sure had been charmed into spying on her by Rita Skeeter. This was why the plant had one of Daphne's scarves draped over it, muffling the tiny cries from the leaves. Placing her jacket over her chair, she was just about to sit down for the morning, reaching for the pile of parchments that had been left on her desk when the deep voice of Dempster Wiggleswade bounced off the office walls.

 

“Greengrass, in my office now.”

 

The whole of the office turned to Daphne, eyes narrowed as the loud booming voice of their boss interrupted their morning's work and it was somehow her fault. Sighing loudly, Daphne rolled her eyes as she made her way down the aisle, towards Dempster's office, which sat at the end of the law enforcement section of the Daily Prophet.

 

“You wanted to see me, Mr Wiggleswade?”

 

Dempster Wiggleswade was a former Law Enforcer at the Ministry of Magic who was now stuck as an advice columnist for wizarding law and other criminal enquiries. As unofficial leader of the law enforcement department of the Daily Prophet, eh took it upon himself to dole out the best stories to his favourite journalists and leave the worst parts to Daphne and the other's who didn't bring him doughnuts every time they wanted something from him. He loved a suck up and heavily encouraged bribery through sweet treats and coffee.

 

He had no morals but it was in no doubt that his cholesterol was through the roof.

 

“Come in Greengrass, I have something for you.”

 

Daphne shut the door and took a seat on the battered chair Dempster had on the other  
side of the desk. “Yes sir?”

 

“You've heard abut the latest disappearances of wizards, mainly in South America, right?” Dempster started, reaching his hand over the desk for the box of doughtnuts, which he placed just out of reach so he wouldn't eat them all, not that it stopped him. Yellowing fingernails, a sign of way too much muggle tobacco use, floated under Daphne's nose and she pulled a face, trying not to stare at the disgusting sight. “Well it seems two more have gone missing in the last week, Delphin Monbast and Randolph Morgan. I know you've been itching for a story and even though you don't currently bring much to the office at the moment.” Daphne rolled her eyes, knowing full well that he meant her lack of doughnut bringing, “I think that you can handle this. Here's the file.”

 

Daphne took the plain, beige folder and began flicking through it, taking in the notes as she scanned the pages, seeing nothing more than scattered bullet points and pictures of the two wizards in question.

 

“What I want you to do is find out where these two went – they've obviously fled somewhere so I want you to fly out to Colombia, their last known location and ask a few questions. Nothing dangerous, difficult or exciting but i'm giving you a shot here.”

 

Daphne looked up from the case notes and nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. The story wasn't much, like he said and it wasn't exciting but it was something more than fact checking everyone else's stories. She could deal with that. And she'd earned it without having to spend her last wages on doughnuts

 

“Thank you sir, I'll get reading this straight away.”

 

“Yes, yes, very well. Even you can't mess this one up Greengrass.” Dempster chuckled to himself as Daphne stood up from her chair, biting her lip to stop the scathing come back that was on the tip of her tongue. “You'll be leaving tomorrow so make sure you're ready and waiting to go.”

 

Daphne nodded, “Yes Sir,” She shut the door behind her, not before spotting the man reaching for another doughnut and she headed back to her desk, file still in hand.

 

“Is that our coffee orders Greengrass? Make sure you don't mess mine up this time.” Oliver Rivers smirked at Daphne from his desk, causing the others around him to snigger. “You do know what I have don't you? If not, i'll remind you – I have-”

 

“A really small you-know-what? I didn't think that was something you wanted everyone to know that but each to their own. If you're proud then i'm happy for you.” The former Ravenclaw flushed red and began stuttering, trying to find a comeback or a denial, anything that would stop the sniggering that was now aimed in his direction. Daphne smirked and carried on to her desk, watching him try and deny her words to his colleagues fervently, with hand gestures and wild eyes.

 

Laughing to herself, Daphne opened the file and studied the photographs of Monbast and Morgan – they looked like decent wizards, a little rough around the edges but they had been former Voldemort sympathisers – most known sympathisers had been shunned – so it wasn't surprising that they had left London and headed elsewhere. Why they were in Colombia though, that was a different story. Most sympathisers left for Europe, warmer climates like Spain or Southern France not South America but Daphne guessed she would find that out when she got there.

 

Their disappearance was sudden but no further action was taken by both the Colombian and British Ministry of Magic. According to their reports, the two wizards, known companions, had merely fled the country and were now most likely travelling through South America together, hoping to reach North America for a better, anonymous life. Yet the children of the two wizards were concerned that it was a lie and that something was amiss, and after having wrote into the law enforcement advice column, Barnabus Cuffe decided that Dempster and the team were to investigate further. Obviously Dempster hadn't been too keen and that was why Daphne was currently on the case, she wasn't stupid, but a job was a job and she wasn't going to turn her nose up at it, especially if it paid her rent.

 

“So, what have you got there Greengrass?” Robin Schumer, one of the nicer colleagues in the office and whose desk was to the right of Daphne's, placed a cup of tea on her Puddlemere United coaster, smiling.

 

“The disappearances in Colombia, Dempster wants me to follow up, see where they fled to, nothing too difficult. A boring case but it gets me out of this bloody office so i'm taking it – no more checking facts for you guys for a while at least.” Replied Daphne, reaching for the cup, “Thanks for the tea.”

 

“Colombia hey? Not bad, least it's sunny over there.” Robin replied, slipping into her desk chair, “Better than being stuck here,”

 

Daphne merely smiled, not feeling the need to reply to the red head and went back to her reading. Upon hearing the familiar whoosh of the office memos, hers landed on top of her open file and she opened it, glancing at the words of Barnabus Cuffe.

 

Miss Greengrass, as you have been assigned a story on foreign soil, I hereby give you permission to leave early in order to prepare for your time over in Colombia. Do not mind Dempster, you have my authority to leave the office.

Barnabus Cuffe

 

Smiling to herself, she shut the folder and placed it into her open bag before reaching for her coat on the back of her chair.

 

“Where are you off to?” Asked Oliver, watching Daphne's every move as she readied herself to go home. “You've not long got in Greengrass.”

 

“I'm going home, Cuffe's orders. Do you have a problem Rivers?” Asked Daphne, slipping her arms into her leather jacket, “Because if you do, we can talk about it. I reckon the conversation will go as well as our last one, don't you?” Oliver glared but put his head down, obviously not wanting to be embarrassed once again in front of the entire office. Reaching for her bag, she shot a small smile to Robin, who was watching her intently, “I guess I'll see you in a couple of weeks then.”

 

“Good luck,” Robin called out as Daphne headed for the door, slipping out without Dempster noticing but not before shooting a small wave at Robin. Passing Whilemina, who was still fending off memos, Daphne winced as she watched one memo dive at her forehead.

 

“See you soon Whilemina and if Dempster asks, you didn't see me.” Whilemina managed a squeak of acknowledgement and a slight wave before her arms were up in the air, defending herself.

 

Shaking her head, Daphne left the office and stepped out into the now quiet streets of Diagon Alley. It was amazing the difference an hour could make – gone were the assortment of colours, the buzzing of conversations replaced by empty streets and litter flying gently by in the April breeze.

 

Heading down the street, passing Flourish and Botts, which still had an old Gilderoy Lockhart poster in the corner of the window, nostalgia hit her as memories of her second year of Hogwarts flashed before her eyes – the Chamber of Secrets, Lockhart taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts, the petrifying of the muggle-borns and Malfoy's gloating in the common room that he could have been the heir of Slytherin, like it was a privilege – it all flooded back and Daphne found herself slightly yearning for those days back. Looking away from the window display, Daphne made her way to the Leaky Cauldron before stopping short at the door, deciding at the last minute to disapparate home, not seeing the need to smell stale beer and or engage in drunken conversations with the regulars.

 

After a whirl of confusion and an unsettling, but well-known feeling in her stomach, one she had never gotten used to in the 7 years since she had passed her test, Daphne smelt the familiar scent of vanilla and opened her eyes, her small, unkempt flat now filling her vision.

 

The small flat, which was more like a studio, seeing as Daphne had to sleep in the living room, the only bedroom being as big as a cupboard, could only be described as quaint – tiny if you being completely honest. The kitchen was too small to swing a cat in and her bed consisted of a pull-out sofa, which Daphne had forgone ever making again seeing as she never had any visitors around. Still, the place was clean and the street she resided on was quiet with mainly muggles occupying the other flats.

 

She had seen the flat Millicent Bulstrode ended up in – Daphne had struck lucky with hers.

 

Dumping her bag on the old armchair and heading to the unmade sofa bed, Daphne flopped down onto it, groaning when she felt one of her shoes digging into her back. Shifting on the bed, she reached for it and threw the shoe down onto the pile of clothes she couldn't remember were clean or not before closing her eyes – she would pack for Colombia later.

 

Or tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I only own what you don't recognise, everything else belongs to JK.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Cucuta, Colombia. April 13th.

 

“Gracias, muchos gracias.”

Daphne smiled as the older woman walked away, watching her put her head down as she walked past the garage on the corner and quickened her pace. It wasn't the first time that Daphne had noticed people rushing past the garage but she didn't blame them. Watching as two young men, easily identifiable as muggles, stepped out into the sun, dressed head to toe in black, cigarettes in their hands. Daphne met their gaze and held it for a couple of minutes before turning away and walking the opposite way, towards the dingy hotel she had been staying in – Dempster not one to spend out on comfort.

Spotting the small cafe she had come accustomed to in the week she had ben there, she decided to grab a quick coffee before sitting down with her new notes and headed inside the busy establishment, which was the only coffee shop she had come across. Standing in line, she noticed a dark-haired, golden skinned guy sat at one of the table, staring out towards the garage. Narrowing her eyes, she spotted what she thought to be a wand underneath his loose fitting t-shirt but thought nothing of it, knowing that wizards did go on holiday, even if it was to Colombia.

“Hola, café americano por favor,” The barista looked unimpressed with Daphne's politeness and merely grunted as she went off to make her black coffee. Taking a look out the window, she could see more men dressed in black gathering outside the garage and the wizard near the window taking an extreme interest in them.

“Here you go,”

Loud, broken English invaded Daphne's thoughts and she placed her money on the counter, grabbing the coffee to go. Stopping just short of the door, she could see a confrontation happening and before she knew it, she was making her way to the door. However, she didn't make it as she felt herself being pushed backwards and the sensation of searing hot coffee spilling down her front.

“Bloody hell, hey!” Daphne was now on the floor, covered in coffee, which was still steaming and the wizard she had been looking at standing over her, his face like thunder before he turned away and practically sprinted out of the cafe, without so much as a second glance. “Dick.” Daphne muttered as she got up, smiling apologetically at the barista who now had a mop in her hand. “Lo siento,”

She left the cafe, trying her hardest to keep her ruined clothes from her skin as she headed back to her hotel room for a new set of clothes and to retire for the day. She was in no mood for any more questions and she knew if she ran into the wizard who had just ruined her new white shirt, she would not be held responsible for her actions, no matter how cute she had thought he was.

Reaching the hotel, which was as dirty inside as it looked outside, Daphne grimaced and pushed the heavy front door, groaning when it refused to budge. After 7 days of being in Colombia, she still hadn't managed the art of opening the door and the security guard on duty, who was obviously not used to being asked to do things, liked to mutter under his breath in Spanish as he helped Daphne in.

“Stupid door,” Daphne pushed against the door again, cursing softly as the door stubbornly refused to move even an inch. Not spotting the security guard in his usual chair, Daphne rolled her eyes and moved to lean against the wall, slowly sinking down to the dusty path, “Stupid place,”

“So not only are you incapable of not bumping into people, it seems you can't even open doors. Is there anything you can do?” An American accent with a southern twang Daphne couldn't quite place, came from her right and Daphne looked up, groaning when she saw who was standing there.

“Oh, it's you Texas. What do you want? Come to spill more coffee on me?” Daphne pulled a face as she watched him roll his eyes, “Please just go away, I have no time for rude wizards.”

“I'm not from Texas, actually. And how in Merlin did you know I was a wizard?” The American whispered the last part and Daphne rolled her eyes.

“Well aside from the fact that you just said Merlin, which could quite easily give you away, I can see the wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Daphne smiled sweetly as the wizard blanched, “Not so smart for a guy who seems to be on a mission.”

The dark haired American looked startled at Daphne's words and quickly pushed open the door to her hotel with ease, grabbing Daphne by the arm and dragging her inside, much to her protest.

“Hey, hey, watch it Texas, that kinda hurt,” Daphne rubbed at her arm, which was turning a pinkish colour, “What is your problem?”

The American pulled Daphne towards him and hissed in her ear. “Who the hell are you working for? Is it the British Ministry of Magic? WI5? WI6? Tell me!”

Daphne shook her head and pulled away, “Hey, what's got you so paranoid? I don't work for any organisation, do I look like a Ministry official to you? I work for the Daily Prophet, I'm here following up some information before I write a story.” Daphne shook her head again, “Are all American's like you, Texas? Because if they are, remind me to never go to the US.”

“My name is Tristan, not Texas! Tristan Harper and I am not from Texas. And if you are not working for anyone, how do you know so much?” Tristan asked, looking almost unsettled.

“I don't know anything,” Explained Daphne, pulling a face, “I was just making a comment, that's all.” Daphne paused, looking at Tristan with narrowed eyes, “Unless you are on a mission. That's why you were watching the garage on the corner, you are here for something.” Daphne smirked, “Well, you're certainly not what I pictured an American agent to look like but I guess beggars can't be choosers when there is shit to be done.”

“I don't know what you know or what you don't know so I'd appreciate it if you just kept your mouth shut, okay? I don't have time for civilians getting in the way.” Tristan sneered before pulling open the door of the hotel and stalking out, leaving Daphne standing there, a little confused as to what had just happened. Shaking her head as she began the walk up the stairs, the lift conveniently still out of order, Daphne let out a scoff.

“What a day.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, just in case the crazy American decided to come back, Daphne eventually reached her hotel door, scrunching her nose up at the smell of vomit wafting down the corridor, most likely from the room next door. They'd clearly been having a party, if the loud, terrible music at 3am had been anything to go by so it wasn't particularly surprising – Daphne probably would have joined if they hadn't all been Spanish speaking.

Stepping into her room and locking the door behind her, a precaution she was advised to take by the creepy guy who had been manning the reception the night she arrived, who made her want to lock it anyway, she took a look at the wall in front of her and sighed. Her information wall was scarce and wonky, pictures and notes pinned up at odd angles and not a lot to go on, aside from what she knew before and what a few of the locals had told her before they practically ran away.

Writing down what the old lady had told her, before the coffee incident with the annoying American, onto a piece of parchment, she pinned it up with the rest of the information she had gathered and frowned – it wasn't much to go on but she knew everything was linked to the garage on the corner, the one were all the muggles wore black and were tattooed on all their visible skin. It was the very same garage Texas had been watching in the cafe and most of the locals always avoided walking past unless they had to – Merlin, even Daphne had felt uncomfortable walking past and she had a wand to protect her. By the way they all acted, the comings and goings at all hours of the day and night, Daphne had noted it was busier of a night than a day, they were clearly up to something and Daphne concluded that everything that was going on had something to do with that garage.

She just had to figure out what the 'goings on' actually were.

Sighing loudly, Daphne retreated to her bed, the wall directly opposite her as she sat back against the old, creaking headboard. If she did what muggles did in those cop shows, she would have red strings all leading back to that garage. Texas, or Harper, Daphne didn't particularly care for his name, had been watching it for a reason and judging by how antsy he had gotten at her, accusing her of being a spy, she knew it had to be important otherwise he wouldn't have jumped on her the way he did. That's the conclusion Daphne was coming to anyway – conspiracy theories sounded a lot more fun that a regular disappearance and Merlin knew the Daily Prophet needed a spectacular story to regain subscribers and a good image.

Hearing what sounded like a heated argument outside the hotel, Daphne jumped up and peered out of her window, hiding behind the musky smelling curtain so she wasn't seen. Through the dirty, streaked window, she could see a group of guys, all dressed in black and another guy, who Daphne recognised from earlier than week, having spoken to him about the disappearances of Monbast and Morgan. He had given her quite a bit of information before practically running away after one of the men from the garage appeared around the corner. Not being able to understand what they were saying to each other was frustrating to Daphne but from what she could see from their body language, the guys from the garage were slowly ganging up on the other guy, Francisco, if Daphne remembered his name right. Deciding that she was going to standby and watch him get beaten when his odds were zero, Daphne raced downstairs and for the first time, managed to open the front door with no problem as she went bursting out, the noise from the door slamming behind her distracting the group ahead.

Daphne said nothing as she stood still, only a couple of metres away and held the leaders gaze, who had took a threatening step forwards as a means to scare Daphne. Feeling the adrenaline cursing through her veins, Daphne did the same and held her head high, eyebrow raised.

“Hay algún problema?” Her Spanish was broken and completely text book but the face the leader pulled meant he understand was she had said. He smirked at her, taking one more step forwards and staring at her, licking his lips before he gestured to the guys behind him and they walked off down the barely lit street. Daphne held her breath until they had disappeared from sight before turning to Francisco, who looked like she felt. “Are you okay?”

He merely nodded and muttered a thank you before he took off in the opposite direction. Daphne rolled her eyes at the lack of gratitude before she headed back to the hotel, trying the door, which wouldn't open again and no security guard around to help her.

“For fucks sake!”

\---

Translations, according to google

“Gracias, muchas gracias. - thank you, thank you very much

Hola, café americano por favor, - Hello, an american coffee please

“Lo siento, - I'm sorry

Hay algún problema? - Is there a problem?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own what you don't recognise, everything else belongs to JK.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belong to JK. I only own Tristan, the plot and other characters you don't recognise. This story is also posted over at HPFF and will soon be posted at FF.net, under the name TearsIMustConceal. If you find this story anywhere else, please inform me, as this is someone copying my story.


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